Lunch had been a quaint affair, though Rarity hadn’t eaten much and had actually vouched to give the remainder of her meal to Spike. While it was true she had lost her appetite due to having been in the city morgue mere minutes before, she also found herself stuck with trying to process everything all at once. It did not overwhelm her, for she was the famous Detective Rarity, but it certainly kept her thinking and rethinking scenario after scenario and possibility after possibility. Along with her internal processing, she found herself pondering the mysterious case of the Black Zinnia. Some part of her hoped that this was in fact the infamous Zinnia killer or a direct tie-in to the case in some odd way, for the glory, satisfaction, and sense of service and fulfillment that would come with such an arrest would be unfathomable, but yet another part of her felt dread, confliction and perhaps even fear at that same notion. This whole series of events was like having two mysteries to solve at once. It was a lot to take in, certainly, but she had seen worse and been under far more pressure, so she wasn’t about to let it get the best of her.
By the time lunch ended, it was close to two o’ clock and the city was now in the peak of it activity. Everything was going on all at once yet Rarity was unfazed as she walked confidently towards her destination. As she had been reviewing the case notes in the deli, she decided to proceed with following the few leads that she had. She was left now with two options: Go to Jeweler Joe’s and see if she could find some more clues or get some more information there, or return to the Central Police Headquarters and go over the financial records that she had had confiscated from Lyra and Bonbon’s residence. She was sure that the LPPD had already picked them up, transported them and cataloged them into records, as they had been allowed ample time, but Rarity decided to follow her gut and seek out Jeweler Joe’s. Also, she didn’t feel it wise to place too much faith in the LPPD. As she entertained that notion in her head she rolled her eyes a few times and pressed silently on with Spike atop her back.
Eventually, after some time of walking and making menial conversation, the duo arrived on a fairly docile thoroughfare that was quieter than the rest of the city that surrounded it. Even if she didn’t know the city as she did, her instincts and common sense would tell her that this was a seedy part of town. Not quite the underbelly, but pretty close to it. She stopped, seemingly to kick a piece of debris out of her hoof or perhaps adjust her saddlebags, though in reality to briefly throw her backside upwards and slide Spike forward a few inches so that he would be more even with her shoulders and she would be more acutely aware of his presence. Lastly, she pulled her badge up to the very side of her coat so that it would be very apparently visible and then took off down the quiet street at a rather brisk trot. Observing the numbers on the buildings as they passed, roughly three quarters of the way down the mile-or-so-long thoroughfare, on the left side that she was on, Rarity came to a halt in front of the building that she presumed to be her destination.
“1212 Manehattan Way,” Rarity grumbled the destination to herself. Normally, she would pull her notebook out and double-check to make sure that she was at the right address, as there was no room for error in this business, but here she felt pretty confident that she was at the right place. In front of her stood a tall, aged two-story building that seemed to have been constructed from the grimiest bricks imaginable. The two small rectangular windows on the top floor that faced the street were either tinted or covered an interior that was bathed in darkness, she couldn’t tell which. However, the large shop windows and the glass double doors which they flanked told her an entirely different story. On each window, two pale, peeling diamonds, for a total of four, each wider and shorter than those on Rarity’s rump, flanked the grimy, peeling, and weather-beaten letters JEWLER JOES on one window and JEWELRY! BUY! SELL! TRADE! on the other.
Coupled with the large letters, which Rarity personally felt were too large for the windows, the glasses themselves appeared to either be lightly tinted or covered in a layer of dust so thick that it would mimic the effect of window tint. Knowing the part of the city that they were in, that last option in particular would’ve been the one that Rarity was betting on. She pulled the door closest to her open and entered inside of the stuffy jewelry store.
What she saw before her could hardly be called a store at all as it looked even worse on the inside than it did on the outside, and it gave the overwhelming notion of being nothing more than a shady pawn shop or, in Rarity’s opinion, a glorified trash dump. It was a far cry from the grand boutiques and jewelry stores of downtown Las Pegasus, and certainly those that lined the affluent streets of Neighborly Hills. Everything inside from the floor up to the molding was pale, dim, and dull. The cheap shag carpet, ripped and stained in some places, was no clean marble or tile flooring, and some of the tiles in the ceiling either lay misplaced or sagged with obvious water damage. Even the jewelry cases had heavy flaws, ranging from chipped and even cracked display glass, to thick coatings of dust, to even potentially dangerous pieces of broken and pointed metal trim lining. Upon seeing the place for herself, Rarity couldn’t believe that an apparently distinguished mare such as Lyra would opt to have this as their choice jeweler. Frozen in her doubt that this place could even be up to code, Rarity could only observe her surroundings for a few moments before being approached by a hulking form. If the sight of the brute approaching her didn’t snap her back to her senses, that putrid scent certainly did.
When she looked forward, Rarity knew right then that she was looking at the owner of this establishment, Jeweler Joe. If the crooked nametag that he bore upon his lapel didn’t serve as an indicator to that, then his personal appearance did as it was in just as deplorable a condition as his store. The butterscotch-colored earth stallion wore a jet black suit, stained, of course, and sized a bit too small for his large, plump body, bore an unkempt moustache, and had a greasy, dark mane that was slicked back so much and pocked with split ends that to call it slimy would have been an understatement. Even as he closed in on her from a short distance, one could easily smell that he reeked of a strong cologne, budget, by Rarity’s nostrils, that tried futilely to cover an overwhelming stench of body odors.
“Don’t tell me!” he bellowed out with a shady, somewhat creaky salesman-esque tone, “I know why you came here.” He was right upon her then.
With an eyebrow cocked, Rarity tried her best to keep from gagging at his overwhelming stench. Spike, however, was not so subtle and openly pinched his nose.
“Oh?” Rarity mustered, “And why is that?” She tried her best to offer one of her cocky smiles, for she knew that Joe truly had no idea, but she didn’t want the stench entering into her mouth as well, and could only manage an awkward, crooked pattern across her lips as a result.
Seeming to not even notice the discomfort of either, Joe continued on with his pitch.
“Well, because you’re a discerning lady looking for a great deal, that’s why!” He swung his hoof around, touting his enthusiasm. “So tell me miss, what does a beautiful unicorn like yourself wish of Jeweler Joe and his fine selection today? A beautiful ring for a beautiful horn, perhaps? Or maybe you’re looking for a special something for that special somepony?” He flipped his round body parallel to Rarity’s so that she could get a better look at his sleazy store, and with his eyes intent as ever, and his smile as crooked as ever, tried to sell Rarity some more. “You know, I’ve got this gorgeous new selection of diamond neckl-”
“Please, spare me the sales pitch Mr. Joe,” Rarity cut him short and pulled her badge off of her side and held it up for him to see, “I’m not here to buy. I’m here on police business.”
In a flash, the stallion backed off of her both verbally and physically. He quickly returned to his former position of being right in front of her albeit a few steps back. Almost as fast as his position changed, his tone and overall demeanor changed so that it no longer attempted to be charming, in whatever odd way it had been, and was no longer sale-oriented or welcoming.
“L-look,” he said now with a nervous voice that was as greasy in tone as his mane, “I don’t know what you might’ve heard, but this is an honest business! I swear it! N-now I don’t need any bad publicity here either. Just tell me how much you want, and if it’s reasonable, I’m sure we can ‘lose’ some bits from the register, no problem, eh?” He gave her a brief, insincere smile and subsequently ran his hoof through his mane.
“Oh you can spare me that too,” Rarity shot back, “I don’t care about your backroom card games.”
“ Ho! Ho! What?” Joe waved his hooves in the air as he stammered on, “Who said anything about card games? I told you ma’am, this is an honest business! Honest as me, Jeweler Joe.” The crooked, wide salesman grin that he initially gave Rarity returned. The nervous chuckle that he subsequently offered only made it more apparent to her that he was lying.
“Mhmm,” Rarity shifted on her front hooves and cocked her eyebrow again, “and yet you’re offering me a bribe to leave Mr. Joe?”
Joe nervously adjusted his tie and replied to her, “I don’t like to think of it as a ‘bribe’, more of uh… a ‘donation’ to you for your services. Protect and serve, right?” He offered his fake smile one more time, but Rarity could still see right through him. She was growing impatient with the weasely stallion, but tried her best to remain collected. After some moments of silence, Jeweler Joe sighed, and after looking around behind his shoulders and even out the glass door behind Rarity, he eventually pulled her a few paces off to the side, in the corner of the building.
“Look,” he said with a calmer tone, “There aren’t any card games going on Miss, you have to believe me. I’m… sorry that I offered you a… a bribe,” he cleared his throat and darted his beady eyes briefly off to the side, “It’s just that you cops are bad for business is all. A bunch of ponies see the colts, well, mares in blue standing around and they get the idea that stuff’s going on.”
“Stuff like backroom card games?”
Annoyed now, Joe slapped himself on the forehead and his demeanor once again took a total one-eighty. “OK! OK! You’ve got me!” he scowled at Rarity and shot a particular dirty look at the dragon atop her back, who still pinched his nose. “I’ll pay you double!”
Rarity rolled her eyes and sighed, “I told you Mr. Joe, I’m not interested in your backroom card games or your money”
“Well what do you want then?” he asked rudely.
“I’m investigating a murder and I have reason to believe that the victim may have been one of your clients. I’m seeking out information.”
“Oh…” Joe’s demeanor changed one more time as his scowl turned to a frown. He pondered in silence for a few seconds and then resolved to her, “That’s all well and fine, but I don’t think I’ll be of much help to you.”
“Oh? Now why would that be?” Rarity cocked an eyebrow.
Huffing sarcastically as though it were some great common knowledge, Jeweler Joe said with his greasy, almost timid tone, “Surely you can’t expect as fine an establishment as this to be able to keep tabs on all of its customers? We are quite popular, you know?”
Rarity peered around him at the sparsely populated and dirty interior. She hummed, “Yes, well…” and looked back at him. “Mr. Joe, the evidence that I have in my possession suggests that this particular individual was both a regular customer and a very good one at that. Why, you might even say that she was a very special customer. Now, you can’t expect me to believe that you or your employees wouldn’t have some knowledge of an individual like that?”
The stallion was silent for a few moments as he sized Rarity up. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her, but he definitely didn’t feel comfortable with her snooping around his shop. He was so involved in that observation, in fact, that what Rarity had said seemingly went into one ear and directly out the other. He cleared his throat and then offered up that weasely, raspy chuckle one more time and said, “Yes, well… even if we did maintain some sort of customer log as you’re suggesting… and we don’t,” he was quick to correct, “I’m sorry to inform you that I cannot divulge my customer’s information.” He shuffled a little uncomfortably on his hooves, but his position made it clear that he wasn’t going to change his mind.
Irritated with the exchange that was getting her nowhere and wasting her time, Rarity decided that it was time to turn up the pressure and try a new tactic.
“Listen,” she said firmly and took a menacing step towards him, which prompted him to move a pace back, “Let me put it like this. Are you going to give me what I want, or am I going to have to have half of the LPPD come down here and bust up your little operation? Just think of the reputation that would bring! Think of the…” she turned her head and finished smugly, “property damage.” Joe tried to stammer something out, but Rarity was quick to cut him off. She didn’t want him talking unless he was telling her what she wanted to hear.
“I don’t just mean exposing that little backroom casino of yours either. I mean the fake jewelry too.” She said that final bit rather loudly, which momentarily prompted most activity inside of the store to cease, only to be followed up with hushed whispers. The few customers that were inside took extra consideration when they observed the pieces before them.
A look of absolute horror upon his face, mostly because of Rarity’s final statement, Jeweler Joe tried frantically to hush her.
“Alright, alright, alright,” he spoke quickly and in a near whisper, “I’ll give you what you want!” He turned anxiously and nervously looked around the store’s interior. He then looked briefly back at her and, with a nod of his head, concluded, “But not here. Follow me. We can go to the office and I’ll tell you whatever it is that you want to know.” He then turned his gluttonous form and began to walk towards the closed wooden door that was on the furthest wall from where they had initially been standing at the front of the store.
As she followed him, acutely aware of her senses as always, she glanced over at the jewelry contained within the cases that she passed and couldn’t help but allow for a smug, smart smile to cross her lips. Like most other ladies, she herself had a modest collection of garments and jewelry, but with her intuition she was able to tell what distinguished a fake piece from a legitimate piece. Spike often asked her the secret, as many fake pieces tasted absolutely horrid in comparison to their real counterparts, but Rarity would always reply with a wink and the statement of “A girl has to have some secrets.”
True, there were some real pieces in with the fake ones, and she could have spotted them a mile away, but what satisfied her most though was knowing that any other detective would have let that slip right over their head and would have found themselves with one less bit of information to use to their advantage.
Rarity wasn’t able to revel in her victory for long though, as she soon noticed that they were coming to a stop at the door. It was flanked on either side by two long, curved display cases that were manned by two different uninterested-looking employees, each with a few customers examining the various jewels inside. Rarity was aware of them, but hardly paying them any attention as she watched Joe, who himself could barely fit between the gap between the counters, reach into the side pocket of his suit. She watched him intently as he did this, partly for her and Spike’s safety, and partly to try to construct a mental map of his habits and capabilities. Just from watching him perform those few actions in that brief time window she had already learned that he was slow, and a little clumsy, having almost dropped the large brass key that he pulled from his pocket several times as he fumbled with the likely rusted lock.
Finally, after some moments of fighting with the lock, Joe was able to open the door and lead Rarity inside to a small hallway of sorts. To her left, where Joe was heading, was an open door that led into an office. To her right was a wall with a few crooked generic paintings that had been lazily hung around a battered timeclock that looked to be in less than working order. Directly ahead of her lay another door, this one closed, that likely opened to a set of stairs which led up to the small, illegal makeshift casino upstairs. It wasn’t what she was here for, and assuming that Joe was a stallion of his word, Rarity was a mare of her word. She wasn’t there for that reason. At least not on that day.
As he squeezed into the doorway that led into his office, Joe nervously glanced back at Rarity when he noticed that she had slowed her pace and was eyeing the door. He was about to clear his throat, perhaps out of nervousness or perhaps in an attempt to get her attention, but refrained from doing so when Rarity finally normalized her pace and entered into his plain, bland, slightly in better repair office.
“Please, sit,” he indicated to the two uncomfortable looking wooden chairs in front of his large desk. He walked around and plopped down into his own brown leather chair across from then. With a nod of courtesy, Rarity moved to sit down as Spike dismounted her and climbed into the seat beside her. There was some silence in the room for a few moments after that, as Rarity pulled her notebook and pencil out, but Joe eventually broke that silence by nervously clearing his throat. “Tell me, Miss…”
“Rarity.”
“Tell me Miss Rarity, what is it that I can help you with?” He crossed his hooves on top of the desk.
“Let’s start from the beginning then, shall we?” Rarity flipped her mane and adjusted her hat, “Mister Joe, I’m Detective Rarity, private investigator, working on behalf of the Las Pegasus Police Department, and this is my assistant, Spike.” Joe shot another mean look at the dragon, who subsequently replied by sticking out the end of his forked reptilian tongue when he thought that the stallion wasn’t looking. Rarity paid neither of them any mind and continued on with her business, “As I said, I’m currently investigating a murder and I have reason to believe that the victim was a good customer of yours, perhaps, again as I said, a special customer even.”
Joe gave her a confused look, “What does that mean exactly, ‘special customer’? I value all of my customers the same Miss Rarity.”
Rarity took a short breath, readied her mind and her writing utensil, and then asked, “Does the name ‘Lyra Heartstrings’ mean anything to you?”
The look on Joe’s face changed to a look of shock and concern in an instant. He gulped, “L-Lyra? Why, yes, yes it does actually. Is everything all right?”
“I’m afraid not Mister Joe. Miss Heartstrings was found deceased earlier this morning, and there is every indication that foul play was involved,” Rarity revealed to him with a gentler tone.
“Oh Celestia,” he gasped sorrowfully and placed one of his hooves in his mane, propping his head up. He stared blankly at the wooden desktop for a few moments. “How could it… Are you sure?” he asked. Rarity heard genuine sorrow in his voice, and thought that she actually saw a tear or two well in the corners of his eyes.
“I’m afraid so,” she replied and nodded her head. Rarity allowed him a few moments to absorb the information, and merely observed him as he shook his head, seemingly in disbelief. Finally, though she continued, “That’s why I’m here. I have a few questions that I would like you to answer.”
“Y-yes, yes, anything,” Joe said as he reached over with a shaky hoof and grabbed a large glass bottle which contained an unknown alcohol. “Do you mind?” he asked her as he reached for one of the shot glasses.
“Not at all,” she told him. Everypony grieved in a different way, and it just so happened that Joe’s method was alcohol. She silently watched him shakily pour the drink, spilling a few drops on the desktop in the process, and then place the cap back on the neck of the bottle. “You were… close to the victim?” Rarity asked her first question.
Joe looked silently into the liquid for a few moments before finally grasping the glass tightly with his other hoof and draining the glass in one swift motion. “Yes,” he closed his eyes and nodded his head, “Not only is Lyra one of my best customers, but she is a very dear friend. She’s practically an everyday sight around here.”
“I see,” Rarity commented, “And can you tell me when the last time you saw her was?”
“Around a week ago,” Joe answered surely and without hesitation. “She came in to browse and we made conversation, as always.”
This could be a key detail, so Rarity paid extra close attention as she asked her next question. “Do you mind telling me what that conversation was about?”
“Yes, yes, of course. There were the jewels, of course. She loved to talk about those. A few menial other things as well, you know the weather and the news and the like. But…”
“But what?”
“There was something else… I remember it because I just thought it was so strange.”
“What was it?”
“She mentioned something about her and her…” he stopped, struggling to come up with the correct terminology, “spouse’ fighting. Said she was always on her to ‘watch her spending.’” He huffed. “But what is life if you can’t indulge in the finer things?!” He was then quiet for a few moments after that and then recalled as he scratched his chin.
“You know, come to think of it, she really hasn’t been herself over the course of these past few weeks.”
“What exactly do you mean by that?” Rarity cocked an eyebrow.
“Lyra always smiles and is just… outgoing. The Lyra that had been coming into my store these past few weeks has been none of those things. Usually she would have all sorts of questions and comments about the pieces that she fancied, but as of late, she merely looked over them with little to say. I tried asking her what was wrong several times, sure, but it was only recently when she opened up to me.”
Rarity scribbled down a few notes casually as Joe downed another shot of the stiff drink. “You think she was depressed?”
“I don’t know about all of that, but she certainly hadn’t been herself.” He sighed and tapped his hoof a few times on top of the desk, “If I had to give you a definite yes or no answer though, I would say yes.”
Rarity decided it was time to pursue another line of inquiry. She needed to see if she could establish some sort of motive for Joe.
“Alright, now I need you to level with me here Mister Joe. Did Lyra know the jewelry was fake?”
“Of course not!” he snapped, “None of my customers do! It’s not like every single piece in my store is fake anyway. Maybe a little overpriced, but not fake,” he chuckled, “Ah besides, Lyra was… a special exception.”
“What exactly do you mean by that?” She felt a little apprehensive of the way he had said that.
“I never sold Lyra any of the fake pieces. I swear upon it. Besides, I think had I tried to she would have been able to spot it. A very clever mare with a very good eye, that one.” He smiled fondly.
“And do you have some way to prove this?”
Joe gave her a disapproving look that she didn’t trust his word, but by now he knew it best just to stay quiet.
“I do, yes,” he simply replied and started digging around beneath his desk. Rarity always got nervous when they started doing that, as all law enforcement officers do, but she did not let it show. However, she trained her eyes intently on Joe. Her suspicions were stamped out though when he pulled forth two blue, rectangular leather-bound books and placed them on the desk. He slid them across to Rarity and with a bit of an irritated tone explained, “Records of all my sales. In this one,” he patted the book to her right, “my timeless, authentic pieces. And in this one,” he patted the book to her left, “my more… generic and budget-friendly pieces.” He smiled at her with a toothy grin.
“Yes, well…” Rarity grumbled and pulled the books a little closer to her. She flipped open the cover and started to scan and flip through the pages. She could tell right away that the record books were accurate, as the dates on the first couple of pages inside matched the establishment date on the front of the store. Still, it never hurt to ask.
“All of this is accurate?” she looked up at him and met his eyes.
“You have my word. It’s all there.”
Rarity flipped through the pages, and eventually opened up the second book with her magic and began to flip through it as well. Her intent eyes scanned over each page looking for what she sought or anything otherwise out of the ordinary. However, she eventually asked, suspiciously, “You find it necessary to keep the addresses of your clients?” She glanced up at him. What type of jewelry store keeps the address of its customers?
“For repossession purposes, of course,” he answered innocently.
Joe pulled a cigarette from the box in his breast pocket. “Do you mind?” he asked, not awaiting an answer before placing it between his lips and striking a match.
“Go ahead,” Rarity mumbled and continued to scan over the pages. After a few more page turns, she found what it was she was looking for in the book containing the sales of authentic jewelry. She skimmed over the pages in the other book and confirmed that Joe had indeed not sold Lyra any fake jewelry, or perhaps deliberately covered up the fact he did by either listing her under a fake name and address or not listing her at all. However, she felt that that was unlikely because shady he may have been, but not dedicated nor intelligent enough to orchestrate a cover up as detailed as that.
As she closed the one book and turned her attention to the other, she looked up at Joe and stated, “Mister Joe, when we found Miss Heartstrings’ body, she was missing a pair of earrings that appeared to be forcefully removed.”
“Oh…oh my,” was all he could reply as he took a shaky puff of his cigarette. He took on a particularly glum look afterwards.
“When we visited her residence, we found this empty box and have reason to believe that it was home to the earrings that she was missing.” Rarity pulled the bagged box from her saddlebag and gently removed it so that she could hand it over to Joe. “Is there any chance you could tell us what particular piece was in here?”
“Hm…” Joe said as he picked up the box and examined it closely. “Going to be hard to tell just by the box, but… let me see here…” he opened up the box and continued to examine it. “Definitely one of my earring boxes, as you can tell,” he pointed out the two small holes where the earrings would have been securely clipped and started to fumble with the interior padding of the box. He finally pulled the bottom padding out and subsequently pulled a small tag. “Oh, yes, yes indeed,” he muttered, partly to himself as he observed a series of tiny white numbers embroidered on the small black tag. “I remember these. Gold,” he said matter-of-factly as he placed the padding back, closed the box, and slid it back to Rarity, “with authentic pearls on the end.”
“You’re absolutely sure?” Rarity asked, and stopped mid-scribble.
“As sure as I am Jeweler Joe!” his salesman tone returned for a moment or two but then quickly faded back when he cleared his throat and concluded, “You’ll want to look for the sale number 103882. A recent purchase if I recall correctly, and a pricey one at that. That matched her very well. She looked beautiful.”
As he said that, Rarity also took note of several interesting things within the book. She learned that Lyra had first visited the store in April of 1944, nearly three years ago, and on that date purchased a moderately expensive mane clip. She further noticed that the closer she got to the current date, the more frequent Lyra’s visits became, and the more spectacular her purchases became. After her initial visit, it looked as if Lyra visited and purchased something from the store approximately once every three months or so, however in the Spring of 1945 those visits and purchases increased to once a month, and after that, in the Winter, they further increased to a couple times a month. This all culminated up to a point of where in October of 1946 it appeared that Lyra was making regular, bi-weekly visits and purchases. As she drew even closer to the current date though, Rarity noticed that the prices of the things purchased changed sharply in just these past few months. Oddly, where she had been spending only a couple hundred bits here and there, all of a sudden there were purchases for pieces costing up to two thousand bits. Rarity hummed as she thought about the new puzzle piece that she had been given. Could it have been that Lyra purchased more frivolously when she was distressed, as she would have been after arguing with her spouse?
Another odd thing that Rarity noticed, on the part of Jeweler Joe, was that he included small comments about his customers. While that wasn’t necessarily unusual for business owners, as these record books often served as a diary of sorts, Rarity couldn’t help but feel the comments were off. That is to say that some were unusually detailed, in the case of Lyra a little too detailed, while others appeared to be monotonous and uncaring. From the middle of 1945 onwards, the tone of the comments that Joe had written about Lyra changed from those monotonous and uncaring comments, to small comments about her attractive appearance and eventually climaxed in 1946 with very detailed, almost lustful comments about her physical appearance and “tastes”. There was a certain dedication to the comments about Lyra that the other customer’s records lacked, and Rarity just couldn’t help but feel that was suspicious. However, she wasn’t afforded much time to dwell on that suspicion before her eyes snapped her back to reality when the met the numbers “103882” on paper.
Rarity had to hand it to the stallion in front of her, he knew his books and his products. The date of sale was March of 1947 and the described product complete with comment was, “Two earrings. Hoofcrafted and imported from the Saddle Arabian Sea region. 14kt gold with authentic pearls on the end. She looks absolutely stunning. No mare could pull them off as well as she could. Should I have given her a discount?” The sale price was listed as just a little over fifteen hundred bits, but if the extravagant number hadn’t caught Rarity’s eye, the bright red marking off to the side that read “UNPAID!!” certainly did. Upon flipping through the next couple of blank pages in the book, Rarity concluded that those earrings had indeed been Lyra’s final purchase, not but two weeks ago.
Rarity closed the book and looked intently at Joe. “Tell me, you had a thing for Miss Heartstrings didn’t you?”
A slightly visible blush across his face, Joe scrambled to take the books back and stash them beneath his desk. He must’ve forgotten about the things he had written, let alone the graphic ones involving Lyra. He cleared his throat nervously once he realized how hasty he had been with his movements. “Of course not Miss Rarity. I don’t get involved with my customers. It isn’t professional.”
“I never said you were involved,” Rarity slyly caught his lie. “What I asked you was if you had a fondness for her… a romantic interest, if you will. Now surely you can’t just sit here and expect me to believe otherwise. Your comments within your record books tell quite a different story.”
Joe gulped and his beady green eyes darted about. He wanted to reach for the drink bottle one more time, but at this point he was too afraid to make that move, especially when he noticed how intently Rarity was watching him. She was different from all the other cops he had ever dealt with, way different. He was so nervous that he neglected to dip his burning cigarette over the ashtray, which prompted some of the ashes to flutter down and make yet another stain on his tarnished suit. “O-Ok,” he stammered, “Yes, I liked her a little bit.” He nodded his head nervously. After that though, he took on a defensive tone with her, “What? Is it a crime to admire somepony now?”
“No,” Rarity shot sharply, “but it is a crime to run backroom casinos, defraud customers, and withhold information from a police investigation, so I suggest you be quiet and tell me what I want to know and only what I want to know. Is that clear?” He opened his mouth to speak, but Rarity cut him short, “I’m a very lenient pony Mister Joe, and I’ve been extremely lenient with you. However, you will find it wise to trust me when I say that things will not go pleasantly when I am no longer extend that courtesy to you.” She wasn’t about to take unnecessary guff from him. It was hard being a mare in this profession and she simply couldn’t allow others, especially males, to get an advantage over her.
Joe only looked sternly at her for a few moments before accepting his defeat. He took a long draw of the cigarette between his lips and asked Rarity, “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to answer my questions honestly and fully. Now, were you involved with Lyra in any way, shape, or form? Or… perhaps, did you ever make any advances towards her?”
“No. Lyra was… married, and that was something that I had to accept. I can’t say I approved of her choice in partner, but hey, what business is it of mine?”
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
He took another puff of his cigarette before answering. “Are you kidding? That Bonbon is about as unsavory as they come! She was awful to that poor mare! You said it yourself, Lyra was depressed. Well, who do you think made her that way?” He took one last puff of the cigarette before mashing it down inside of the tortoiseshell ashtray on his desk. “At least if she had been mine, she would have been happy.”
Rarity ignored his final comment and readied herself to go into a new line of inquiry with Joe. She recalled the financial troubles that Lyra and Bonbon had been having and took into account what Joe had said himself; that he ran a business. Could it have been that an under-the-table repossession went awry? Or is it plausible that since Lyra didn’t know about the financial troubles and thus the missed payments that she was unknowingly lured into a trap or targeted for an attack? These were all thoughts that raced through Rarity’s mind as she thought about how best to go through with her next line of questioning.
“You offer financing on your jewelry, Mister Joe?” she asked.
“On most pieces, yes. Though not on the most expensive pieces in the store. Why do you ask?”
Rarity ignored him and pressed on, “Did Miss Heartstrings ever finance any of your pieces?”
“No, not at all,” Joe chuckled greedily, “Lyra was a mare of means, and I must say that that reflected in her purchases.”
“It’s my understanding that you always dealt with her personally, is that right? How did she pay?”
“Of course. As I had already told you, Lyra was not only one of my very best customers, but also a very dear friend. I couldn’t help but see it fit that she receive the best treatment when she was here. Who better to provide that star service than me, naturally?”
“Naturally,” Rarity commented rather sarcastically. “How did she prefer to pay?”
Joe seemed not to notice her sarcastic reply and continued on with his answers. He sighed, “Lyra never paid with bits. Said she didn’t feel comfortable walking around with a big bag of them. She always paid with a personal check,” he scratched his chin and concluded, “Shame if I do say so myself. She could’ve been quite the head-turner in more ways than one.”
The way he had said that certainly unsettled her in more ways than one, but she tried not to think too much of it as she wrote down what she had been told. If Joe was to be believed, then it was unlikely that Lyra would have had any bits stolen from her when she was assaulted. However, on the same token, Rarity didn’t recall seeing a checkbook or personal checks at the scene of the crime with the rest of Lyra’s belongings, but nor did she recall seeing any at her residence either. This only pushed more questions and concerns into her mind.
“Did that bother you?”
“While I personally prefer cold, hard bits, no,” he shook his head, “no, I can’t say it bothered me. Money is money, is it not?” He then absent-mindedly pushed the bottle of alcohol atop his desk around while he stared at it in silence. After some seconds, he eventually stopped and concluded, “Though, I will say that as of late, something unusual started happening.” He unscrewed the cap from the bottle and poured himself yet another shot.
“What might that have been?”
“Her checks…” he said with a twinge of irritation as he downed his drink, “they started bouncing recently.”
“Now that bothers you doesn’t it, Mister Joe? About how long ago would you say they started bouncing?”
“Of course it does!” he replied with a bit of a snap, “Why wouldn’t it? As I said, I do run a business here, and that is first priority.” He heaved a sigh. “It’s difficult to recall, but I would say we started having… ‘issues’ about three months ago. I’d been meaning to figure it all up, but the time is just always slipping through my hooves.”
“Indeed… now I’m assuming that she was notified of her bounced checks, correct?”
“Indeed she was, via a letter, as per our store policy, and a few… phone calls as well,” he huffed, “Part of the reason I despise checks.”
As she thought it all over and ran through a few scenarios in her mind, Rarity came to the realization that, based on Joe’s record books and statements, Lyra had indeed visited the store numerous times since her checks started to bounce and yet there was no indication as of yet that he had confronted her face to face. She decided to call him on it, and see what she could get out of him.
“You know…” she began slowly, “You said that Lyra’s payments started to fall through roughly three months ago, correct?” He nodded his head and Rarity continued on, “What I can’t quite figure out is that it appears she had been in your business on numerous occasions since that time, and I have evidence to suggest that you never called her on it. Why is that?”
“I never had any reason to.”
“Pardon?” Rarity actually found herself surprised with the straightforward answer.
“I never had any reason to,” he repeated with a shrug, “By the time she came back in, her account would be balanced. Her… other half, Bonbon, always came in to settle the debt for her.”
“And you didn’t find that suspicious? You never thought to ask her about it?”
“Maybe a little bit, but hey, what business is it of mine? Besides, for what it’s worth,” he drummed his hoof on the desk, “Bonbon paid with bits.” He gave a nearly inaudible greedy chuckle. Money is money, is it not?
Now Rarity had the answer to the question that she had initially asked Bonbon, about Joe calling Lyra out on her failed payments. However, Bonbon had apparently settled all of the debts with him, save one by Rarity’s calculation. When she had been scanning over the books, she saw that Lyra’s final purchase had taken place only a few weeks ago and had been for a pair of golden earrings with pearls at the end, which had now been positively identified as the ones that had been stolen from her at the time of her murder. Finally, it would appear that they hadn’t been paid for because Lyra’s payment fell through one last time. The more Rarity thought about it, and she didn’t have to for long, the more a very suspicious light was cast upon Joe.
“The earrings I asked you about earlier, were those properly paid for?”
“Funny that you should mention it, but no, they weren’t. As you can probably guess, another bounced check,” he drummed his hoof on the desktop irritably.
“Were Miss Heartstrings and Miss Bonbon notified of this?”
“Every attempt was made. A few phone calls were made, but they were unanswered, and a letter was finally sent out last week,” he retained his irritated tone.
Rarity had him right where she wanted him. “Mind explaining to me your repossession process?”
He gave her a confused look for a few seconds, but nonetheless complied. “I’m not sure what it has to do with your investigation Miss, but it’s about as standard as they come I suppose. The procedure is the same for failed upfront payments, and insufficient or missed financing payments: I try to contact the pony via the telephone, and if that fails a letter gets mailed out demanding either immediate payment or immediate return. If those go unanswered or unsettled, the police are contacted and an employee goes with them to collect the piece in question.” He made eye contact with her for a few moments before concluding rather tauntingly, “If you don’t mind my saying so, I figured that a detective with your expertise would know how the whole process works.” Rarity thought she saw a smirk, but on a roll in the direction that she was wanting to go, she ignored him.
“Tell me, do your repossessions ever get… violent?”
He quickly took on a defensive tone and, holding both of his hooves up, responded, “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply here detective, but I tell you that our repossessions, on the rare occasions they had to happen, never went ‘violent’, as you say. Besides, I think you’re forgetting that there was always a police officer present at all of them.”
“Come now darling,” Rarity chided him, knowing that she had caught him in another lie, “you can do better than that. The LPPD can’t help but have its hooves full with bringing in crooks, drunks, and the occasional troubled starlet, so is it so absurd for me to conclude that you weren’t always able to have an officer sent to you when you wanted one?”
“W-well, I…” Joe tried to defend himself, but only added vocal proof to his visible nervousness.
“And you aren’t so fond of cops now are you Mister Joe?” Rarity held back a smile as she wagged her hoof at him, “After all, wasn’t it you that offered me monetary compensation just to leave your store?” She leaned forward slightly and gave him a stern look, “Now with that knowledge in mind, you can’t expect me to believe that you would want yourself or one of your employees to stay in the constant presence of one of Las Pegasus’ finest? Try again.” She kept her stern eyes locked on him, but leaned back in her chair.
“OK, fine!” Joe’s timid, panicked tone flared at this point, “Maybe I had a couple of repossessions take place under the table, and maybe I had a couple of ponies roughed up for not paying me what was owed, but that’s it! I swear! It never went past that. Never!”
“Was Lyra one of those ponies?” Rarity asked quickly, excitement on her breath, “And don’t lie to me either! If I even suspect the slightest hint that you’re lying to me, the cuffs are going on.” In a visible display of intimidation, she pulled a pair of stainless steel hoofcuffs from inside of her trench coat and dropped them with a clank on the desk.
Eyes wide, Joe gulped. He hoped and prayed to Celestia that Rarity would believe him when he told her the truth.
“Never!” he stammered out, “I would never have allowed something like that to happen to Lyra. I… I valued her far too much for that. She… meant too much to me to allow that to happen. I didn’t care about the jewelry, or the money. It would have been enough for me if she just would keep coming around.”
As he said what he had to say, Rarity watched him very, very intently. She paid attention to his body language, his tone of voice, the way his eyes moved, and just about every other attribute she possibly could. When he eventually finished speaking, instinct and that close observation told her that he was telling the truth, but she knew that it was one thing to speak the truth but an entirely different thing to prove it. She was just about finished up with Joe at this point, but he had already moved to the top spot on her ponies of interest list. There were a lot of hypothetical equations involved with Jeweler Joe himself and with the relationship that he had with Lyra, and to Rarity, too many of those equations just weren’t adding up for her to be comfortable with simply writing him off.
After sitting in silence for some time, Rarity used her magic to take the cuffs of his desk and stash them beneath her coat, “Good,” she commented on the smart move that he made, “Now tell me, who is it that does your dirty work?”
“I… I don’t know,” he mumbled with a defeated and worried tone.
“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the one who hired them,” Rarity said pointedly. She thought about making another visible show of force, at least as a bluff, but when Joe hurriedly moved to explain himself, she decided against it. It was at that point she knew that she had cracked him all she needed to crack him.
“They’re just on payroll,” he continued quietly, and with a tone full of guilt, “You’ve got to believe me. They don’t know who I am and I don’t know who they are.”
“How did you do it?”
“A bar down on the docks. Clover’s. You know about… about the casino, so I’m not going to hide it. I needed some security after some things went south up there and one of the patrons recommended that place.”
“Who?” Rarity watched him intently.
“You’ll want to ask for Vittore. He’s there almost every day.” Joe hung his head, defeated. “He’s the one that arranges and manages it all.”
Rarity finished writing down all of the details that she had been told into her notebook and then snapped it shut. Silently, she slid the pencil through the metal rings and then tucked it all into her coat.
“I believe we’re done here Mister Joe,” she said. He only watched her in silence as she stood up and allowed Spike to climb up onto her back. “Thank you for your cooperation. You’ve provided the answers to a lot of questions that will assist with the investigation into Miss Heartstring’s untimely death. Alas, you’ve proven yourself to be a valuable asset to my investigation, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you not to leave town. Is that clear?”
Joe silently sized her up one more time, this mare that was able to easily break him and force a bunch of emotions to overcome him at once. He didn’t know whether he should feel angry, sad, guilty, all of the above, or none of the above. It was all a new experience to him. He was used to being the one in charge, and this all had been a rude awakening. Finally, he slowly locked eyes with her and nodded his head.
“Very good,” she responded and turned away from him. “Good day to you.”
Joe merely shrugged and reached for the bottle of alcohol as Rarity made her way out of his office and eventually back onto the sales floor. A few of the employees and customers glanced at her as she made her way to the exit, but she paid them no mind for she was too occupied with thinking about all of the new possibilities and new, unanswered questions that she was just given.
“Well,” Spike’s voice interrupted her thinking as she pushed open the door and he ducked to avoid the frame, “What do you think?” he asked when she stepped outside.
Rarity exhaled and started to walk down the thoroughfare in the same direction that she had entered, moving at that same quick pace as well.
“It’s not much to go on, that’s for sure, but we’ve got some new leads and I think I’ve found my number one suspect.”
“Let me guess: the fat, smelly, creepy stallion back there?”
Rarity giggled, “Goodness Spike, I thought I was the detective here?” she smiled up at him and then turned serious, “You were there. He obviously lied one too many times to be trusted, he also very obviously had an affection for Lyra, and now we know that he has possible links to organized crime. All of the evidence that I have now just doesn’t stack favorably against him. Still… it’s not enough. Even if it were, we’ve more leads to follow!” She hastened her pace even more.
She slowed her pace to a walk when she eventually got away from the thoroughfare and found herself to be around more of the populace in a far more pleasant part of town. Now, she had yet another decision to make. Assuming he could be trusted, Joe had given Rarity a pretty significant lead in regards to this stallion “Vittore” and Clover’s bar. However, Rarity, and practically every other law enforcement official in the city, knew of Clover’s bar and to say that it and its patrons were less than unsavory would be a gross understatement. Among other nagging factors, she had Spike with her, and the already dangerous bar only grew to be more dangerous after the sun went down, and that time was close approaching. She recalled the financial records that had been confiscated from Lyra and Bonbon’s residence and resolved to go to the Central Police Station so that she could pour over them. There was no absolutely no telling what kind of valuable information might be contained within the mountains of pages. Why waste the evening on one lead when there’s the potential to track down numerous leads all day tomorrow? she thought to herself. “I hope you brought your coffee Spike,” she looked up at him as she reared up on her hind legs and prepared for a run, “because we’re going to be in for a long night.”